


Driving Miss Kiyoko

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yachi is a chauffeur for mafia and her job is driving Miss Kiyoko.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving Miss Kiyoko

Yachi Hitoka was mafia.

Yes, she was perfectly aware of how completely _ridiculous_ it sounded and, trust her, it _was,_ but that’s where life took her, and there was no point in going into unnecessary detail. Besides, it’s not like she was _real_ mafia – she’s never even seen the boss, not even fleetingly! She was more like all the accountants, secretaries, doctors, lawyers, and housekeepers, who were on mafia’s payroll, but never actually held a gun or _did_ anything even remotely mafia-y.

Yachi was just a driver. Not even a _getaway_ driver, constantly in the center of all the wild chases and shoot-outs, which would be _so cool_ if Yachi didn’t think she’d crap herself up her armpits in ten seconds flat. No, she was just a regular chauffer, with a bit uncomfortable black suit, but without the silly hat. Except she only ever drove one woman, whose name Yachi never knew and liked calling Miss Daisy in her head. Get it? Because she was _driving her._ Heh.

Anyway, she had no idea what her passenger actually did. Yachi just picked her up at the headquarters, drove her to the designated place, waited for about twenty minutes, and drove back – nothing out of ordinary ever happened. Yachi used to speculate a lot about the nature of Miss Daisy’s profession. What could someone like her do for a living that had to do with _mafia?_ What could someone so elegant, beautiful, dignified, graceful-

She was getting side-tracked again.

Yeah, okay, so Yachi had a big fat crush, fine, and the mystery surrounding Miss Daisy didn’t help quenching her curiosity and fascination. It’s just… she could be _anyone_ – she could be the boss herself, for all Yachi knew. And it’s not like they didn’t _talk._ Sometimes the drive took hours, and it was really not in Yachi’s nature to keep quiet. But maybe it really was just Yachi talking _at_ Miss Daisy, complaining about the weather, or enthusing about cat videos.

But whenever she would chirpily ask about something unimportant, like last night’s dinner, or a book recommendation, Miss Daisy would politely reply, inefficiently hiding her smile when Yachi amused her in any way. So, perhaps it was only Yachi’s cowardice and inability to simply ask the big question that was stopping her from learning the truth. But that’s just how it worked – drive, wait, drive back, day in, day out, a never-changing scenario, better not to know more.

Yachi suddenly screeched when something banged against the car, and she briefly wondered if they’d make her cut off her pinky for denting the vehicle, but she soon had other things to panic about. Miss Daisy was getting in the car, holding a frigging gun in one hand, and using the other to press onto what looked like a bullet wound in her shoulder, and Yachi almost strangled herself with a seatbelt trying to turn around and see what the hell was going on.

“Drive,” said Miss Daisy, and Yachi wanted to protest, because she wasn’t a _getaway_ driver, but her passenger grunted in pain, and something in Yachi’s head just _switched_ and she turned on the engine. “Take me to Tsukishima. No, wait, Sugawara is closer.”

Despite being almost exclusively Miss Daisy’s driver, Yachi was required to memorize countless address of the family’s various “human resources” in case of any incidents, which was good, very good, considering that _this,_ the unprecedented situation in the backseat, definitely qualified as an incident. She nodded and pressed the gas pedal, simultaneously hitting her panic button back on, judging by the flush of anxiety and beginnings of nervous sweat.

“What the heck, what the _heck!_ What the heck happened! How did you get shot?! You never got shot before! Oh my god, how did you get shot!”

“Occupational risk,” replied Miss Daisy, smiling weakly. “I’m a good hitman, but I’m not infallible…”

“H-h-h-h-h-HITMAN?! You’re a h-h-hitman?! Oh god, I’d never just chill and play _Angry Birds_ while waiting for you, if I knew you were out there _killing people!_ Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

Miss Daisy chuckled. “You never asked…” she said, and didn’t Yachi just _knew_ it! “What did you think I did?”

“I don’t know, I thought you just visited random people, and told them to do things, and they listened to you, because, _hello,_ you said so, and, gah, I don’t know, I certainly didn’t think you were a hitman! Ugh, how bad is it? It’s ten more minutes, can you hold on, Miss Daisy?”

Miss Daisy’s grin turned into a surprised scowl. “Miss Daisy? Oh, I get it. Because you’re driving me. Funny. I could have told you it’s Kiyoko, you just-”

“I know, I know, I never asked,” mumbled Yachi, blushing to the roots of her hair, because she just fell in love all over again.

She suddenly sniffled, which confused her greatly for a moment, because she didn’t remember starting to cry, but there it was, like _bam,_ out of nowhere. It took her a while to realize that her brain just forgot to let her know that they were done being composed and pretending not to be absolutely terrified by the whole situation. Yachi did her best not to completely break down, but she really wished her eyes had windshield wipers, that’d be super useful.

“Please don’t die, Miss Kiyoko…” she whimpered. “I haven’t shown you the talking dog yet…”

“I’ve seen that one… I don’t live under a rock…”

Yachi would laugh if Kiyoko’s voice didn’t seem more faint with every word. She swallowed, focusing on driving, because nothing good ever came out of a driver who didn’t watch the road, no matter how tempting it was to just stare in the rearview mirror to make sure Miss Kiyoko was still breathing. Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving, and Yachi couldn’t even remember any action movies that would help her know if it was good or bad.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “Should you be talking to me? Should I make you keep talking to me? Or do you have to save strength or something like that? I don’t know anything, all I do is watch anime, and not even for the plot, I do it for fanservice, that’s how useless I am! I don’t know what to do now!”

Kiyoko sighed around a chuckle, blinking heavily. “You want me to stay conscious, yes. That would be preferable, since I’m losing blood quickly. What do you want to talk about?”

“Do you like fugashi?” blurted out Yachi. “I _hated_ it when I was a kid but now I could just eat it all the time. Why’s that? I don’t get it. I’m pretty sure it tasted exactly the same twelve years ago as it does now.”

“How old were you twelve years ago?”

“Seven. The prime of my life, really, because after that my clumsiness stopped being cute and started being annoying. What kind of kid were you? Did you already know you were going to be hitman? Like, when _does_ one decide they want to be a hitman? Is there a right age for making this decision? Like-”

Kiyoko let out another weak chuckle. “I thought I was supposed to be the one talking…”

“Oh, shoot, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’m just really, _really_ nervous. Mostly because you’re bleeding out in the backseat. Do you think they’ll make me cut off my pinky for all the blood on the backseat? Oh, thank god, we’re here. We’re here, hold on.”

Yachi got out of the car and instantly fell down on her knees, _of course,_ and she didn’t even bother getting up as she fumbled to open the door and help Kiyoko get out. She heard a hiss of pain when she put Kiyoko’s arm over her shoulders, and she almost took Kiyoko’s gun and shot her own pinky off, because _of course_ she’d grab her _wounded_ arm. Promptly moving to Kiyoko’s good side, she finally managed to help her inside the clinic without injuring her even more.

Doctor Sugawara frowned in concern, but didn’t comment on Kiyoko’s state before taking her and leaving one panting Yachi Hitoka alone by the door, where she stood uselessly until Mr. Sawamura brought her a plastic cup filled with awful coffee and intimidated her into sitting down. She had no idea how much time had passed, because suddenly her untouched coffee was cold, but it wasn’t very warm to begin with, so she just kept waiting like that.

When doctor Sugawara finally came back, Yachi got up so abruptly that she dropped the cup, spilling the dubious liquid all over the floor. She grabbed the doctor by the coat instead of apologizing, because if Miss Kiyoko died, Yachi didn’t care if Sawamura killed her too for messing up his floor. And he would, judging by the horrifying rumors she’s heard – mostly from doctor Tsukishima who, due to “house calls,” was Yachi’s only other, very occasional passenger.

“Is she going to die?!” she demanded.

“ _Die?"_  repeated Sugawara, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Ye of little faith… She’s fine! But you won’t be if Daichi sees his floor…”

“Can I see her?”

Some of Yachi’s utter terror must have been showing on her face, because Sugawara’s slightly teasing smirk turned into a gentle smile. “Of course. Third door on the left.”

Yachi bowed in thanks and rushed to the room where Miss Kiyoko was hopefully no longer bleeding out to death. When she entered, Kiyoko’s back was facing the door, which allowed Yachi to admire it for a very brief moment. The magnificent crow tattooed on the entire expanse of her back was mesmerizing, but soon started to disappear under a crisp white shirt Kiyoko was trying to put on. She hissed in pain when the bandaged arm refused to cooperate.

“Let me,” said Yachi, chuckling at Kiyoko’s startled shudder. “I sneaked up on a hitman~ Maybe they won’t cut off my pinky…”

Kiyoko stared at her as she let Yachi help her dress. “You’re still here.”

“Of course! It’s what I do! I drive, I wait, I drive back.”

Yachi didn’t think it was anything special, it seemed rather obvious to her, but the way Kiyoko looked at her said something completely different. The silence was a bit awkward, but allowed Yachi to relax, fully comprehend that it was all over, and let relief wash over her. She let out a deep sigh, unable to stop herself from grinning, because she was so happy Miss Kiyoko was alright, and she just wanted to hug her _so bad,_ but knowing her skills, she’d reopen the wound or something.

“Thank you,” said Kiyoko simply, kissing Yachi’s cheek before unceremoniously walking out of the room.

Yachi just stood there, as he face gradually transformed into a fresh, ripe, genetically enhanced for vibrant color tomato. Then the head went _poof_ with the realization of what has just happened, and Yachi’s knees gave out underneath her. She stayed like that for a while, dazed, until she heard Sawamura yelling, undoubtedly discovering what Yachi has done to his floor, which instantly made her scramble to get up and run for her life as fast as she could.

After all, she had to drive Miss Kiyoko back.


End file.
